Facts and other things I think I know.

July 10, 2011

I'm torn between saying "Wow, I can't believe it's been a year," and "Wait, it's ONLY been a year?" But it has been. One whole year has gone by since I started this blog. Which is weird, because I was really pretty sure I'd have my whole life figured out by the time I got to this point.

That... didn't... happen.

But a lot of other stuff did happen! I was in two plays, I traveled to both ends of the country (and lots of places in between), I shot a movie, I bitched about and failed to overcome my fear of flying, I obsessed about puppies, Freddie graduated and got a job at Pixar, I helped him pack up and move to California, I auditioned for and got into grad school, I spent time with my awesome family, I laughed (a lot), I cried (also a lot), I got three moles sliced out of me, I said goodbye to Pittsburgh, I sold all my stuff and I moved to Texas.

And that's just the quick version. For the long version, I've got 365 days worth of posts to remind me of where I was and what I did all year.

I've been debating the past few days, trying to decide if I'd keep posting on this blog once I hit the one year mark. I've been having so much fun posting every day, I don't really want to stop! But I also don't know if I'll have much time to write when I'm in school -- and it'd get pretty boring to read post after post of, "Aaaah! So busy! No time! Aaaaah!"

So.. I've decided on a compromise.

I started a new blog, and I'm going to post a picture every day! Maybe sometimes if I have time I'll write something too. But I figure no matter what, no matter how busy or crazy it gets, I can always find a second to take a picture. And I have a feeling there will be some fun photo ops over the next year. :)

July 9, 2011

Usually I just have to look at my fingernails to know how much money I have.

I've been doing massage therapy as a support job for almost five years now. As a therapist, I have to keep my fingernails pretty short so I don't end up incorporating accidental acupuncture into my massage sessions. So I generally trim them or file them down every couple of days, or even every other day if I'm working a lot.

That also means I have a built in warning system when my funds are about to dip. If I notice my fingernails getting a little long, it means I haven't worked much lately and I haven't had that built-in reminder to trim them.

But now that I'm about to start school, it just occurred to me that I can do whatever I want with my fingernails! I could grow them or paint them or... well, I guess those are the two main things I could do. They're just fingernails after all. But still!

And I might. I might try growing them out to a nice girly length and painting them a nice girly color.

I guess I'll also have to start checking my bank balance at the ATM like a normal person.

July 8, 2011

In just a little over a month, I'll be starting classes in my MFA program. It's gonna be crazy and wonderful and intense. I can't even quite imagine yet how it'll feel to be knee-deep in the program. But as long as I hold onto those things, as long as I remember to bring them back when they start to slip away, I think I'll be a-ok.

It's easy to hide. It's easy to bluff or fake your way. It's hard to be open, accountable, honest. It's scary. But it's how you get to the good stuff.

So when things get challenging and I just want to lock myself in my house and eat froyo all day and never come out, these are the words I'll give myself:

July 7, 2011

Not to make myself sound crazy, but I have a sort of running commentary / conversation with myself going on in my head most of the time. (You know, like normal people do.) Anyway, in my internal commentary, certain things always elicit the exact same response every time I encounter them. For example:

Whenever I see a person walking a tiny little yapper dog, the voice inside my head says, "That's not a real dog!!"

Whenever I walk by a policeman, the voice inside my head says, "Aaaah!!!! He's a got a gun!" (Then I check to make sure I'm right.)

Whenever someone orders a disgustingly sugary blended drink with whipped cream and a cookie and a bagel, the voice inside my head says, "Thisiswhyyou'refat.com."

So now you know the truth. I may seem nice and sweet on the outside, but inside I'm judging you and your dog, and checking you for firearms.